


Wickedly Bonded Mishaps

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: The Dark World, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Light Angst, Marvelously Magical Fanfiction’s Something Wicked Fic Exchange 2020, Potential Spoilers, Soul Bond, Timeline What Timeline, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Pansy was performing the annual ritual on Halloween night, but the mishap that followed was not what she had in mind. Who was this man, and why did her body want him?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4
Collections: Something Wicked Fic Exchange 2020





	Wickedly Bonded Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleysiasnape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleysiasnape/gifts).



Sitting cross-legged in front of the fire pit of her backyard, Pansy stared at her watch. The stars were dancing in the indigo sky alongside the bright, wide moon; it was almost time for the ritual hour to begin. 

The Parkinsons might have appeared as a simple, pure family among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but that was how Pansy’s ancestors wanted it. 

In fact, what a scarce number of people knew was that her family had Morgana’s blood and power running through its veins; Morgana possessed this as a direct line of The Morrigan. In order for said power to remain potent, a witch descendant must perform the ritual every year on a full moon. Her mother believed it to be strongest in the month of October, and what better day this year that it would be Pansy’s turn than for her to perform it on Samhain.

Pansy was a grown woman now, and she preferred that she be celebrating the holiday with a gathering and showing off her assets—both her lavish home and body—with a costume. It was unfortunate that she knew it had to be done.

The potion before her had all the necessary ingredients already added inside, and as the ritual hour neared, Pansy moved into action; the sooner she finished this, the sooner she could please her mother, rejuvenate the family power, and celebrate the occasion  _ her _ way.

With the tip of her wand, Pansy drew blood along a line on her palm and lowly chanted. The potion before her began to glow a bright lavender, darkening from the blood she spilled into it. She continued to chant, the wind billowing her hair under the Samhain moon. 

Everything was going as expected for Pansy. Until it wasn’t. In her rush to finish, she was turning the potion in the wrong direction; not that she noticed that in time. When she looked down at the bubbly liquid, it was not the rose color she needed. It was bubbling quite largely and quickly; she didn’t move away from it in time to shield herself from the gooey liquid.

“Eugh,” she said, wiping the contents from her face. Of course this wouldn’t go her way.

A growl of frustration escaped Pansy, and she rose up in a huff. She couldn’t keep this stuff on her for too long. It would ruin her silk! And a cleaning charm would damage the material just as badly. 

Due to her attention being drawn to a personal, inward rant, Pansy never felt the vine-like mark she made moments before had now darkened on her palm.

* * *

The trickster god lazily rested on the throne, staring at the images on the ceiling with disdain. Odin this. Happiness that. Where was  _ he _ ? Where was an image of him to be glorified, hm? He doubted they even mourned his ‘death’. That’s alright, because they should be rueing this day as Loki was impersonating Odin while their beloved God of Thunder was off flipping his hair with that hammer of his. 

His disdainful expression morphed to one more wicked, and Loki leaned back with his hands resting behind his head. He wasn’t worried about any intrusions; therefore, there was no need for a disguise at the moment. 

As Loki began to recline and relax, he felt a pull on his person. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the surrounding area quickly; nothing was amiss. 

“If I were you, I would reveal myself now before meeting an untimely death with a three-headed chicken,” the god drawled in a sonorous voice. “I can make that happen fairly easily.” He was rather proud that he pulled off that booming effect without having to appear like a flushed fat tomato. 

Seeing as there was no response or figure in sight, Loki started to relax once again. Once again the moment of relaxation didn’t last for long because there was another pull. This time it tugged at him harder, and Loki jumped off the throne. 

He conjured two blades, staring around the throne room suspiciously. No one pulled a trick on  _ the  _ God of Mischief and got away with it. None of his brother’s antics counted either. 

Yet no one was there. Loki would have sensed the culprit by now. This further pissed him off. 

“What…” he said as the pull began to overtake him. “...the Hell—”

Loki wouldn’t finish his sentence. He disappeared from the throne room with a pop.

* * *

Pansy walked into her bedroom, running a towel over her wet hair. That shower was much needed after getting that stupid potion all over her. Everything was done exactly as her mother instructed, yet it still exploded on her. Even worse, the ritual hour had passed so the power within the Morgana blood line would remain weak until the next full moon.  _ Perfect _ . 

Mumbling obscenities under her breath, the dark-haired woman tossed the towel she’d been using into the bin next to her vanity. Her actions allowed her peripheral vision to catch the body of a man in her bed staring at her. 

Her first instinct was to scream, so she did. Then naturally Pansy’s wand found its way into her hand, and she pointed it at the unknown man. 

“Who are you and how in the hell did you get in my bed? My home?” she demanded. She was not that cowardly young schoolgirl anymore and would happily prove that.

_ ‘Those eyes...such intensity,’ _ a voice, her voice but deeper, purred in her mind. Something couldn’t be right. 

The man raised his hands in surrender, but she could see from the twitch of his brow that he wished he could do anything but. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer to your question,” he said with obvious irritation laced in his words. “One minute I’m enjoying the luxuries of my latest role in Asgard, and the next…” he looked around. “...I find myself back in Midgard in a strange woman’s bedroom.” 

_ ‘Midgard?’ _ she thought to herself.  _ ‘Why does that have some familiarity to it? I’ve never…?’ _

Wait a minute. 

Pansy shook her head. “Strange?  _ I’m  _ strange?” The witch placed a hand on her chest, taking a swift second to thank herself for putting on her robe after a shower this time. “I’m not the one appearing in a stranger’s bed from thin air and refusing to identify myself, let alone leaving in general before being hexed to the flaming pits.” 

He looked as if he was a tad bit insulted, but Pansy more or less didn’t care. She wasn’t in the wrong here; this was her bloody house!

So why wouldn’t her body make a move to remove him? Instead, it was  _ admiring _ him.

“Believe me, little witch, I would like to get out of this place as soon as possible,” he drawled. “Unfortunately, something is suppressing my powers and abilities to escape, confining me to your velvet sheets. And I would like for you to release me so I can be on my way.”

Something about the way he said the last bit was too mocking for Pansy, but it wasn’t what she was fixated on. The fact that he mentioned his own powers wasn’t it either. There was a dark line along his palm, traced much like the one she had noticed on her own hand. Is that what the potion had done to her? 

_ ‘Yes, we’re bonded together he and I,’  _ her voice that wasn’t really her own thought.  _ ‘Our powers match, and it’s time to make him mine.’ _

His voice cut through the compelling, rich voice in her mind. “Was it something I said?”

Pansy tilted her head, trying to figure everything out. There was a powerful man not of her world in her bed sharing the same mark as hers on his palm. The voice in her mind wanted to seduce and claim him, and she didn’t even know his name. 

Yet something deep within  _ did  _ know him, and it wanted him desperately.

“You’ll be released soon enough, mischief god,” Pansy whispered, the words flowing from her mouth before she could process it.

He froze as he ran a hand through his silky, dark hair, their eyes meeting as Pansy reached for the tie holding her robe closed.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be another short smutty part to this soon!


End file.
